sunsets
by arryns
Summary: "She is the girl with sunsets in her hair and a weight in her step." - Lily/James


**A/N:** I was listening to _Firefly_ by Ed Sheeran and my first thought was of Lily and James and the only way to control my emotions was to write them out. I'm sorry if they're OOC or Mary Sue like or whatever, this is incredibly rough. Of course, no one belongs to me.

sunsets

_There's a firefly/ loose tonight/ better catch it before it burns this place down - _Ed Sheeran

She is the girl with sunrises in her hair, and a skip in her step that enervates and bothers him and he can't quite say why.

i.

Lily Evans is sixteen and she doesn't care. Caring is a completely ridiculous concept, she decides, because no one even guarantees that it's mutual and one sided caring - and she could testify, she could - is absolute shit. So it's alright now to go that party, and it's alright to gulp down the fire whiskey, convincing herself it's not utterly disgusting, and it's alright to wear clingy clothing because she's given up on caring. It's done.

The word keeps ringing in her ear, no, not the word, but the harsh monotone he used when he said _mudblood_ and Merlin, she'd do anything to get rid of the feeling she gets, this guttural scream wedged in the back of her throat, and it makes her want to vomit until she's completely empty inside. So she gulps. She swallows, and it's like swallowing fire, but it's better than the other pain. She takes huge gulps, inhaling the fire whiskey, and when it's done she's near tears - she's as empty as the bottle, and she didn't want this at all. (She decides to run.)

ii.

He watches her ruining herself from a distance, and if there's one word to describe the way he feels, then Lily Evans is drinking it. It's his fault and nothing is ever his fault, but this is. Right now she's the opposite of the mellow glow he's partly in love with, she's wildwildwild and her hair is the epitome of ravaging flames like the firewhiskey she's drinking. And maybe she looks gorgeous (she does) and maybe he really wants to kiss her (he does) but mostly he wants to hold her to him and let her sob on his chest and cradle her face, his thumb tracing the outline of her cheekbones that look heartbreakingly severe against her pale skin. (So he runs.)

iii.

(They run into each other.) Granted, they don't run very far. Even Lily Evans isn't clever enough to distinguish _far away_ from right outside the Gryffindor common room when her world is a blurry haze. She curls up on the wall opposite the Fat Lady, and cries, her sobs racking her entire frame. Through her tears she sees a tall figure with messy hair, and even when her world is a blurry haze she can tell that it's James Potter.

"I'm sorry," he says, and he doesn't even slur, so Lily is tremendously impressed at this role reversal: she's drunk and slightly insane and _breaking the rules_ and he's calm and sober and coherent.

"Get out of here, you git," she tries, but it comes out garbled. James understands nothing, and so he sprawls out next to her, and it's all so funny that she giggles. Or snorts, and suddenly she doesn't know if she is crying or laughing, but it's definitely unattractive, and Merlin, is Potter still here? She's surprised to find her head against his chest but it's warm, and she decides to stay.

iv.

Lily wakes first. James Potter's head is against her shoulder, and hers has been on top of his, and her first thought is that this is kind of cute, but she catches herself. No. It isn't. But with his glasses askew, he looks surprisingly innocent and she's afraid to wake him up, to see his hardened eyes, that are sometimes hazel and sometimes a deep brown. He wakes up.

"Merlin," is his first word, "Oh no, I'm sorry Lily, I'm so sorry, really, I didn't mean to fall asleep here - it's just that you weren't waking up and I didn't know how to just leave you here and -"

She suddenly has the notion that under his rough hands and mischievous eyes, under his crude words, he has a purity no one can displace, and maybe if she told him everything, every part of her rough hewn tale, he'd listen. She doesn't know where this naive idea comes from - she's hated James Potter since she was eleven - but it won't disappear.

"It's, uh, it's okay. I'll see you."

She gets up, with as much calm as she can muster with her pounding headache, and she steps into the common room.

v.

She is the girl with sunsets in her hair and a weight in her step that bothers him so much more.

* * *

A/N: If you like this, or don't, or sort of have any kind of emotion about this, do review! I would really, really, really, _really, _appreciate it. God knows, I need the help.


End file.
